After The End
by Adria Zoi Parzifal
Summary: Do you ever wonder what happened to everyone after the apocalypse? How they survived right when it ended? How the Forest of Hands and Teeth came into existence? Well, here comes the answers. This is a replacement fic for The Beginning of the End.
1. Chapter One

**Chapter One**

My eyes grazed the calm waters of the lake, drinking in the peace of the one place untouched by the Return. I hear the creak of the haphazardly formed fence encircling it, offering us protection from the beings that have been the source and plague of my nightmares for over a year now. My eyes are drawn to the dark green tarps shining in the sun, covering the gasoline-soaked logs that surrounded our sanctuary. They are to be used only as a last resort, a protective ring of fire.

The skeletal branches of the trees outside scrape at my window, plucking me out of my deep contemplation. I sigh, taking one last moment to enjoy the view, noticing my haughty expression reflected in the glass. I lean in closer, shocked as I observe my appearance; my tangled strawberry hair, sunken in cheeks, and most disturbing of all, my eyes. The once lighthearted shine I used to see in the mirror has been replaced with a hardened and almost ominous substitute. I narrow my eyes, pondering over this new face of mine and have to agree it's very fitting after what I've been though. I am no longer the carefree child I once was. The deaths of my parents and this new hellish world of the Undead has changed me in a way that is forever irreversible.

I shake my head, trying to free the thoughts of the truth of this altered world, but know that it is of no use dwelling on the past. The only thing I can change now is the future. Then perhaps, one day, I can find true peace. Not just an illusion conjured from my childhood memories at this lake.

"Jessica!" called Caitlin, interrupting my thoughts. "Jen needs you in the infirmary. Jamie injured himself with a bow...Again."

"Coming!" I shouted to my sister, my shadowed green eyes scanning my room for the first aid kit. A glimpse of a red cross catches my eye and I leap off my window seat, dashing for the case. I hurriedly tossed aside the clothing obscuring what I thought to be a first aid kit, but winced as I instead uncovered a photo, flooding my mind with memories as I stare down at my old self. The sun glared off my snowy white skin as I held up a trophy in the form of a red cross, my grin stretched so far that it looked cartoonish. That was back in the days where the worst injuries I saw were of scraped knees and bloody noses. Now it's so much worse. Arrow wounds, crushed limbs, and knife gashes are what I see on a regular basis. However, it's not unexpected considering the demographics of this village. We're all children, children in a so called 'Safe Bubble'. Children with nowhere else to go, their families dead or Turned, the latter being the most common. It is up to _us_ to create a functional society, appointing leaders, healers, farmers, and other members of a community, along with fighting off the Undead.

We've only been here a few months, but things have been moving along swiftly. We can learn our trades through online courses, but the power can only last for so long. Soon enough, we will lose touch with the other villages with the exception of the paths, although those are only to be used for emergencies, such as an irreparable breach.

In this short time of electricity, we have been assigned the tasks of insulating our houses against the harsh Maine winters, starting up farms, and working to accommodate our lives to the oncoming lack of energy. Whether we'll be ready for the day when our lights won't turn on and our heaters stop running, I don't know. I don't know anything anymore. I don't know if tomorrow will be the day the fences are breached, or if that's the day the first member of our village dies. All we can do is try our best to preserve New Hope and it's future generations. That is, if there are any. It _is _the end of the world. Remember?

**A/N- Okay, so this is the revived version of "The Apocalypse- The Beginning of the End" by Adria Zoi(my old account that I lost the e-mail for...) So yeah, read and review please!**


	2. Chapter Two

**Chapter Two**

I dash down the hallways, my feet pounding on the hard wood floors, the vibrations resounding through the walls. I cradle the cold metal box that is the first aid kit, stuffed with all the utensils I needed for basic healing. I skid to a halt beside the room that serves as our infirmary, my socks causing me to slide a few feet farther. I slam into Caitlin, who was waiting outside the door for me, and my greater weight throws her backwards, tumbling to the ground.

"Watch where your going!" she snarled, shaking her long blonde hair out of her bright blue eyes. My sister and I are nothing alike, besides the fact that we where both pale and petite. She is an adorable thirteen year old, with the perfect match of light wavy hair and big, innocent eyes. Caitlin is a flexible, smooth dancer and a wonderful singer. Yet her attitude did not match her looks or skills, unfortunately.

"Sorry," I huffed, and hauled her back to her feet. I composed myself, and entered the room. I was in complete charge here, among the sick and injured, as I was the most qualified healer among us.

The room was long, and used to be the dining room, but that had changed when the Infection broke out. Now the floor was littered with spare mattresses, blankets and pillows. There had been no great outbreaks of sickness so far, so the place was mainly occupied by my injured companions. There where a few broken bones, but most had been easy to set so far. Some knife wounds, but not many too deep. Most of the time people where careless with the bows. Considering that it would be hard to get more guns and ammunition after we where cut off from trade outside of the village, we had decided to use longbows and crossbows, as well as swords, spears, scythes, staffs, knives and the like for protection against the Undead. Although right now it seemed like a lot of the people did not understand how much damage an arrow can do to you if your not careful.

I slipped through the room, heading to where my little Jamie was leaning against the wall, staring at the arrow sticking out of his foot. I sighed. Classic beginner mistake, to accidentally release the arrow after the bow was lowered. I set the case down next to Jamie and went to take his pulse.

"You okay, honey? How much does it hurt?" I asked him gently.

The young nine year old attempted to smile at me. "Not too much," he murmured.

"That's my little fighter, always being brave," I ruffled his dark brown locks that matched his eyes. "I'm have to cut off your shoe so I can look at the wound now, okay? It might hurt a bit."

Jamie nodded and so I preceded to use my knife to carefully remove his shoe as gently as I could. He winced occasionally, but made no sound. As I peeled the remains off his sticky foot, my eyes widened at the grotesqueness of the injury. The skin was swollen and the arrow had pierced right through his foot, the areas around it leaking blood and yellow pus. Jamie closed his eyes, leaning his head back on the wall.

"Jen!" I called, and the older girl came hurrying over. Jen was more or less in charge of the village, being twenty something and therefore one of the oldest. Jen was short, with long black hair and dark brown eyes. She did most of the harder work that came with leading, while Michelle, her friend of the same age, did more of the strategizing and planning that was involved.

"Bring me the packet labeled 'Chrysanthemum'," I ordered. "And some water. Two bowls as well, along with a washcloth. Oh, and melt some beeswax, please." Jen nodded and went off to retrieve the items.

While I was waiting I made small talk with Jamie, trying to keep his mind off the pain. Luckily, Jen returned soon. I began to bathe his foot with the water, washing off the pus and blood to get a better look at the wound, making sure to avoid the arrow shaft.

I then preceded to crush up the dried chrysanthemum leaves, placing them in one of the bowls. I dribbled some water in, wetting them somewhat, then used my fingers to mash the leaves in, creating a sticky goo. Adding in the beeswax and mixing it around before setting it aside to stiffen, I had made myself an ointment that would easily heal Jamie's foot.

"Why didn't you just use the drugs?" Jen asked me when I was finished.

"Do you want me to waste those drugs on something that will happen many times more? He's not losing a lot of blood, as you can see, and it will help prevent further infection." In that thought I quickly went to the herb cabinet and added some marigold and horsetail to the solution. "He will be fine. It'll numb the pain when I pull the arrow out too."

In less then ten minutes I had smeared the ointment all around the wound. Soon the pain began to numb, and I deemed it time to remove the arrow. Firmly griming the shaft, keeping hold of Jamie's foot, I quickly slid the shaft out. At this, Jamie cried out in pain, the sound somewhat muffled from the cloth Jen had placed in his mouth to bite on. After smearing more of the concoction onto the infected area, I wrapped the foot securely in sterile gauze bandages.

"There you go sweetie." I said to Jamie. "Now drink this tea and go to sleep."

Carrying the arrow by the fletching, not wanting to touch the shaft that was still covered in pus and blood, I left the infirmary. Passing Caitlin on the way out, I handed the arrow to her with directions to wash it and return it to the proper quiver, whichever one that may be. The disgusted look that she gave me coaxed out an evil grin.

Of course, then my best friend, Tabitha, had to yell from the roof that the Undead had breached the fences.


	3. Chapter Three

**Chapter Three**

I dash up the stairs to the roof, abandoning everybody else in my haste to protect my village. But they all know what to do. They know the drill. Get up into the platforms on the trees, or at least up onto a roof, somewhere high and safe where the Undead can't climb.  
In the attic, which serves as our house's armory, I grab a hunting rifle off the rack while my hand flies to my belt, feeling the sharp blade tucked in there. On my other hip is a holster for a handgun, and there is another knife in my boot. They are big and ugly steel-toed combat boots, the kind that can take a beating but aren't much for fashion. I don't mind. They are useful, even though the heaviness is somewhat of a hindrance while running. But I don't flee, I fight.  
I climb clumsily out of the attic window to the shingles of the roof, slinging the rifle over my back. I hustle as quickly as I can to where Tabitha is standing, and swing the gun off me and position it on my shoulder, looking through the sight to see where the monsters have breached the fence so I can shoot them down.  
"Where are they?" I say, fairly panicky, my voice shrill with fear. I can't see them.  
"There!" she points, aiming with her own gun, shooting one down with a well-aimed bullet. I scope out the area, finally seeing the slow, shambling movements of the Undead, and sight my target. I struggle to calm the shaking in my hands as I aim and fire, feeling the gun kick back into my shoulder. I missed. The dirt beside the one I was aiming for puffs up in a little cloud. I growl in frustration as I sight again, and shoot. This one hits the target, but not in the right place. I need the head, not the shoulder. One more time, I aim and pull the trigger, praying to a God that I'm not sure I believe in anymore, that this one will hit the mark. And it does.  
I feel my lips twitch up in a slight smirk, and notice for the first time the sounds of the other guns. I lose my focus, looking for something to shoot at that isn't living. Something that will be useful to take down, something that endangers us. But there is nothing. We've pushed them back far enough, so now the others can finally run to the rescue and patch up the fence. When I squint at the fence line I can see the small hole that they were using to get to us living, and I know it will not be long before the sound of the shots attracts even more of the Undead. I hope our small, ragged army can ward them off, and with that thought, I turn and slide back into the attic, switching out my weapon and rushing off to the scene of all this uproar.


End file.
